The Truly Impossible
by TheGabiLizard
Summary: Clara takes the Doctor on a trip, which takes a dangerous and painful turn. - Eventual Whouffle, Moffat-style feels planned. I apologize in advance.


This is my first fic, and my first time actually writing out a story I've thought of. I've been writing convoluted plot lines for everything since age 13 (8 years, if you're wondering), and this is the only one (hopefully) actually worth posting. Feedback would be much appreciated, but please be gentle with my poor little heart. Also; This authors note is not in my writer voice, so that's why it sucks. Also it's 1:40 am. G'night!

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The Doctor had been traveling for a thousand years. A thousand years through time and space, with his own people, with people who became his own, and with some who called him theirs. But through all the time and space he'd traveled, he'd never encountered someone like Clara. He'd gotten past just thinking of her as a mystery for her strange habit of dying and reappearing in another era, now she was just Clara; Clara, the total screaming genius, the impossible girl who knew his secrets but still traveled with him. It took him time to accept that fact, but he'd finally just decided to move forward and enjoy the trip.

This trip was unlike any other, not that it was strange… he'd traveled all time and space, been to every corner of the known universe and seen every type of creature imaginable; not much struck him as odd anymore. No, this trip was different because it was not him taking Clara somewhere, but Clara taking him. The TARDIS was parked in a basement, the perception filter keeping it safe from prying eyes. They were traveling by car, back to Clara's birthplace in Lancashire.

"I'm not quite clear on why we couldn't just pop in with the TARDIS. Cars are incredible inventions don't get me wrong, but they're so slow…" The Doctor said as he hung on to the door for dear life.

"Is that the only reason you don't like my car?" Clara shot back with a twinge of sarcasm and amusement at the Doctor's nervousness. "You know what I think? I think you just like to be in control." This earned a huff of displeasure and a nervous straightening of his bowtie. Clara responded with a sly grin, then turning her eyes back to the road. "And besides, I want to visit my grandmother… She remembers when those blue police boxes were around, and she remembers when they went away. So how do you think she'd react if one suddenly appeared in her back garden?"

The Doctor tilted his head in resignation, and then fixed his eyes on the road. "It's been years since I've been in a car… I'm not used to it. And the color… it's boring."

"It's silver! What would you rather have? Blue? Variety is the spice of life, Chin-Boy…" Clara said with a smirk.

"Yellow, actually…" The Doctor said while Clara looked at him with confusion. "I had a yellow car… named Bessie. But THAT was when I didn't have access to the TARDIS, and I always drove." Clara shook her head and went back to driving. The rest of the trip was consumed with the Doctor's seemingly infinite stories, 1 petrol stop and stop for the Doctor to get out and dry heave from motion sickness. Both found the situation strangely ironic, that the person who had done nothing his entire life but travel was undone by a car.

The five hour trip meant the Doctor practically sprang out the door when they arrived. He leaned against the passenger door, breathing deeply with his eyes shut. Clara took her bags from the back and walked back to the Doctor's side. "Y'okay there? Do you need me to get you a bag to breathe into? Oh Nana!" With that, Clara's attention was officially lost. The Doctor watched her run to her grandmother and throw her arms around her neck. "Doctor! Come here and meet my Nan! Nana, meet the Doctor, Doctor meet Rose, my mum's mum." The Doctor's eyes perked up at her name, but looked up to see a totally unfamiliar face. The woman was in her 70's but still strong with plenty of life left in her, as he would expect of his Rose at that age, but this woman's eyes were a hazel brown, her hair studded with tones of what must have once been an auburn colour. Regardless of the rush of memories, he was still happy to hear that name again.

"The Doctor, hmm? Doctor Who?" Rose said the thing he had always loved to hear, and the Doctor smirked and winked at Clara. Clara quickly diffused the situation, explaining that he just goes by the Doctor. Rose's eyes flicked between them after this interaction, and one corner of her mouth turned upwards knowingly. "Well, Doctor, thank you so much for keeping an eye on my Clara. Come in, you're just in time for lunch." Rose held the door for the two as they sorted out their things and followed inside.

The house was small and simple. It was cozy enough for Rose to live alone, occasionally entertaining family or friends. It was set back from the road by a short dirt driveway. Rose kept a small flower garden in the front yard, it was well tended, and she obviously spent much of her time caring for it. Other than that, her property was very plain. Within the house, there were photos, souvenirs, memoirs from her past and some given by her friends and family. The Doctor examined everything delicately, looking intently at each photo as if he could absorb the memory by looking at it. The Doctor was always very tender, but now as he stood watching Clara talking to her grandmother, he felt a warmth he'd missed for quite some time. This was the warmth of family, the feeling of basking in the light of shared history. It made him feel old, old in a different way than the tiredness he felt in battle. He felt all the nostalgia of his 1000 years and smiled at the memory. When put in the scale of the time he'd lived, this night seemed very small, but it was one he savored. He set his mind on living this day slowly and taking it for all he could get. Just once, he thought, it would be nice to enjoy Earth instead of worrying about it.

In all the time he'd been travelling, the Doctor had never fully let down his guard, least of all on his adopted home. But even in the middle of Lancashire, far away from the busy streets of London or Cardiff's space-time rifts, there was cause to be wary. In the darkness of that seemingly insignificant night, something sinister grew stronger, and the one being in the universe that could have recognized the threat lay sleeping peacefully, the smell of a flower garden wafting in the windows.


End file.
